


Effort

by Rynfinity



Series: Out of the Mouths of Babes [22]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2404418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's okay," Thor tells his brother, half by reflex.  "I'm not mad."</p><p>Loki's eyes narrow.  "Really?"</p><p> </p><p>This is a direct sequel to Tectonics and will make the most sense read after its predecessors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sif gives Loki some advice.

_Huh_. Thor rolls onto his back and pushes himself carefully up to sitting. He blinks at his dim reflection in the mirror, feeling dazed and more than a little disoriented. After a bit he yawns, then rubs his eyes and yawns once more for good measure. A bit of crusty drool pulls uncomfortably at his skin; he wipes it off his cheek with a warm palm and deposits it onto his sweatpants.

Thor shakes his head a little, which doesn’t help. Finally he stretches and looks around. 

The gauzy balcony curtains are open. Outside the building snowflakes - the big, fluffy, it's-a-warmish-day-south-of-a-Lake-with-a-capital-L sort that are nothing at all like the ones he’d known back home and which have taken quite a bit of getting used to - drift lazily past the balcony on their way to slushing up the street below.

Dusk is settling in; with the snow falling the fading light is bluish and soft. Late afternoon, then, but not quite dinnertime yet. Not this many days past the solstice.

 _Huh_.

Thor twists the other direction, away from the glass balcony door. He can only barely make out his phone lying beside him on the bed, atop the law review he still reads from time to time just to remind himself he's made good choices.

Ah.

Gradually, the events (if you can even call them that) of the day start to come back to him. It’s Saturday, finally, meaning he and his brother had slept in. Around lunchtime they had ambled out to the kitchen and _demolished_ last night’s leftovers – a nice assortment of comfortingly spicy indian dishes, tapas-style, from the awesome place a few streets over; when he licks his lips he can still taste curry, along with hints of both sweetness and salt – and then given the kitchen a quick cleaning.

Thanks at least in part to all the bad dreams - weird dreams, more accurately; some of them have been decidedly more strange than awful – Thor knows he really hasn’t been sleeping well recently. Even after really, really sleeping in this morning he'd felt run-down. His ass had been dragging. So when, after the two of them had finished cleaning up from lunch and Loki and Mac had taken to racing around apartment like the lunatics they kind of are, Thor had opted come back in here. The plan had been to read for a little while in comparative peace and quiet.

Oops.

His bladder is complaining, courtesy of (unexpectedly sleeping the afternoon away on top of) all the lukewarm tea he'd gulped down at lunchtime. Thor yawns again and, with an unhappy groan, swings his legs over the side of the bed. The room is right on the edge of uncomfortably cold; he tugs on an old, ratty sweater over his rumpled t-shirt and levers himself clumsily up to standing.

As he pads past the mirror, tugging his sagging sweatpants up, Thor catches a glimpse of himself and laughs. _Holy bedhead, batman_ he can practically hear his brother exclaiming. He grabs a hair tie out of the top drawer - the cats aren't allowed in here often, but he and Loki can't be too careful - and yanks his messy mane back into a lame excuse for a ponytail. He yawns one last time and pops open the door.

As he starts down the hall Thor can hear voices drifting in from the living room. Huh. Nature is quite insistent; he opts to take a leak anyway - it's going to happen, whether he allows it or not - but doesn't flush.

He doesn't wash his hands, either. So, sue him.

Thor tiptoes down the hallway, carefully skirting the squeaky floorboard near the doorway, and leans quietly against the wall. He's just out of view but well within earshot.

Neither of those things is the least bit accidental.

~

"Look, I know you're used to being the delicate flower here," - Sif, then, in earnest lecture mode - "but your brother is going through a lot right now. He needs our support. Yours most of all, Loki."

"I've been _being_ supportive," his brother protests. "I'm doing my best to take care of him. My best may not be all that great," - Loki sounds hurt, and sad, and Thor has to bite the inside if his cheek to keep from butting in - "but it's going to have to suffice because it's what we have to work with."

"I wasn't meaning to imply you haven’t been," Sif placates. "It's just that- well, I know Thor. _You_ know Thor. Since you guys really started turning things around - before that, really," she concedes, "although it may have been a little harder to recognize then - he's been in caretaker mode. He doesn't always know how to ask for help, Loki. And this time of year is always hardest for him."

"You don't think I know that," Loki huffs. "I only _live_ with the guy."

"It's only recently you've gotten to a place where you can really step outside your own head and take a good look around," Sif tells him. "I'd rather be safe than sorry, that's all."

Loki heaves a huge sigh. "I know. I'm just worried I won't be up to this." He laughs softly. "I guess what I need _you_ to do is tell me I will be."

~

Thor isn't sure if he should be mad, or touched, or worried, or embarrassed. Right now he's kind of all of the above, jumbled messily together. He doesn't like the idea of being such a mess he requires coddling, and he doesn't care for hearing his brother's surprisingly good caretaking abilities questioned. Okay, okay… and he’s not a giant fan of being discussed behind his back like he’s somebody’s problem.

It _is_ nice to be reminded that they care, though, and kind of sweet that they're working together. Their makeshift family looks after its own.

To top it all off eavesdropping is embarrassing. Popping in on them all defensive and snippy, Loki-style, might even be more so.

~

"He's remembering all sorts of things," Loki explains, "good and bad, I guess, but it seems like it's more of the latter. It started when we got Odin's _letter of atonement_ , if you will." He clears his throat. "At least, I think that's what happened. Before that, I don’t recall- well, Thor never mentioned anything like it. Except for nightmares about me dying."

"And?" Sif has that little edge in her voice, the one that makes an appearance whenever she thinks you're omitting part of the story. Over the years both he and his brother have heard that tone often.

"In a way I like it," Loki admits. He still sounds sad. "It's nice to reminisce. It’s even nicer not to feel so alone."

"I can see that," Sif tells him. "Just make sure you're looking out for someone besides Numero Uno, you know?"

Loki must nod his agreement; when she goes on, Sif heads off in a different direction. "Is he talking to his therapist about what’s been going on," she asks, and Thor simply can't do this anymore.

"I don't know," he says brightly as he rounds the corner into the living room. They both jump and the cats go flying. "Why don't you _ask_ him?"

Loki, unsurprisingly, is the first to recovers his powers of speech. "I'm sorry," he says, admirably quickly, but Thor waves him off before he can continue talking.

"It's okay," he tells his brother, half by reflex. "I'm not mad."

Loki's eyes narrow. "Really?" He both looks and sounds very, very skeptical.

Thor laughs, softly. "Oh, okay, maybe I am... a little. But I'll get over it." He looks at Sif, whose own expression is pleasingly guilty. "It's not like Siffy and I haven't done the exact same thing more than a few times when it's come to you."

Loki studies Sif for a moment before turning back to Thor. "And we'd do the same if it was her," he says, indicating Sif with a jerk of his head, "except for how she never fucking needs anything."

The tension in the room eases, palpably. Thor squats to scritch Marci, who has been doing laps around his ankles for at least the past minute. "Don't get me wrong," Thor tells them both. "I do appreciate you looking out for me. I just- I dunno. It's awkward."

"Life is awkward," Loki points out. "Trust me, I would know."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor does as instructed. It goes okay.

“And how did you think you did,” the therapist asks, sounding genuinely interested. He’s good at that – at being interested, or at least at faking it well; Thor’s never quite certain which it might be – so much so that it makes talking to him easy. Relatively speaking. If nothing else it at least makes Thor feel less weird.

“Not too bad,” he says, thinking back to Saturday afternoon. “I felt ridiculous – in my world it’s always been Loki that’s the broken one, Loki that needs looking after, Loki that struggles, and I’ve never really learned to see that it’s okay for me to do the same – but I didn’t bite anyone’s head off or jump to conclusions or even scare the cats. Much.” He laughs. “Actually, Sif and Loki startled the cats by jumping. _I_ only surprised Sif and Loki. Does that count?”

Even over the phone Thor can hear the smile in the social worker’s voice. “Either way,” the guy gently kids him, “it doesn’t sound like the cats were particularly traumatized. Did you actually sit down and talk with them afterwards? Sif and Loki, I mean,” he adds, with a soft little huff of laughter. “Not that I’d judge anyone for talking to his pets, but that’s not what I’m trying to ask you.”

“Yeah, after I got over feeling horribly awkward, I did sit down and- and listen, mostly,” Thor says. He smiles himself, and then stops because it feels- inauthentic. “Believe it or not. I guess Sif mostly just wanted to be sure I was talking about everything with you.”

“Which I’m starting to think you haven’t been,” the therapist tells him.

Thor sighs. “You’re right. The collective you,” he clarifies. “Big surprise, I know.” He sighs again. “Fine, fine. I’ll talk. Where should I start?”

“Hmm,” the social worker hums. “How about at the beginning?”

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Thor tries to jest, except he’s not really joking. When it comes right down to it he’s not really sure why he’s been avoiding the topic – eschewing calling his therapist at all, for that matter - to begin with. Whatever the true reason might be, he’s buried it (from himself, too) under a handy selection of excuses. _I’m too busy_ is the front-runner, with _I’m talking about most of the same things in group and in joint anyway_ behind by only a narrow margin. Beyond that… well, Loki hasn’t been asking about it constantly, so Thor hasn’t felt the need to get really creative.

He takes a couple of deep breaths. “I got a letter from my father. _We_ got one,” he corrects, because it really had applied to both of them. “Loki thinks he’s probably doing AA. Anyways, he wrote to tell us he was sorry.”

“And that upset you,” the therapist says without – thankfully – trying to dig into the details. It’s not a question, and there really isn’t any point in being cagey.

“Yeah,” Thor agrees. He’s done a lot of thinking about this recently, to the point where he’s at least able to more-or-less-comfortably explain it. “I feel like, since he apologized, I’m supposed to say _that’s okay_ and let everything go back to how it- how it should be. Like that’s what apologies are _for_. Except it’s not okay, and I don’t want to.”

“Hmm. Feeling as though you owe someone that sort of acceptance is not at all uncommon,” his therapist concedes, “but it’s also not accurate. Regardless of what we’ve been socialized to believe is _key to living in polite society_ ”, the guy goes on, sounding reassuringly sarcastic there at the end, “ _sorry_ doesn’t always fix everything. It’s a necessary start, but there are plenty of situations where it’s _only_ a start. Does that make sense?”

It does, but it doesn’t. “Loki told me pretty much the same thing,” Thor admits, “and so did Ginny. But I feel guilty. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m a bad son because I can’t accept a gracious, detailed, heartfelt-sounding apology.” He clears his throat. “But anyway, I’m not even sure that’s the biggest issue anymore.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been having dreams,” Thor tells the therapist. “Upsetting dreams. Not like the ones I’ve had before,” he clarifies, “where something’s been going on with Loki. These are from my childhood. Our childhood. And I guess they’re really more memories than anything,” he adds, “at least from what my brother tells me.”

These days Thor usually does his best to steer clear of referring to Loki as his brother, to lower the risk of slipping up now that they’re out as a couple, but it really feels like the only right thing to say here. “He was there for most of it, and his memory from that time period is so much better than mine.” He coughs. This is hard. “He tells me most of the things I’ve been dreaming… they’re very similar to things that actually happened.”

“And you believe him,” the social worker asks.

“Yes, absolutely,” Thor confirms without hesitation. “Loki seems excited to have someone to share all this history with again. I don’t get the sense that he’s playing with me- that he’s playing into a lie at all.” He’s certainly had enough experience with _that_ to have developed a pretty keen sense of it. He takes a moment to put himself back into one of their recent discussions: No, his brother’s enjoyment and sympathy both feel completely genuine. He clears his throat yet again. “So, that’s basically it. Since we got Odin’s letter I’ve been having dreams and not handling them well. Or so my little family tells me.”

“Thank you for telling me,” the therapist says. He sounds neutral and pleasant; not annoyed, not put off by it all. Normal.

“Am I going crazy,” Thor blurts out. Now that it’s out of his mouth, he realizes he hadn’t even known he’d been worrying about that.

“No,” the social worker says, “not at all. As odd as it probably feels, this type of thing isn’t particularly uncommon. When we’re young,” he explains, “there’s really only so much we can cope with. If things happen, things that push us beyond our ability to cope, our developing brains sometimes opt to bury those things deep inside. It’s how we go on,” he tells Thor.

It makes sense, finally. Whatever’s happened, Thor has always _gone on._

~

“He told me that, paradoxically, remembering is actually _less crazy_ than suppressing,” Thor tells his brother. They’re both home now, snuggled together on the couch. The TV is on but the sound is down and neither of them is really watching.

“Yeah,” Loki agrees. “That’s actually true.” He snorts, and Thor can feel the muscles in his torso contract. “It sucks that _getting normal_ always has to be so unpleasant.”

Thor turns to kiss his brother’s temple. “Yeah.” He sighs. “Do me a favor?”

“Mm,” Loki hums, scooting a little closer. “Maybe.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Thor is thoroughly sick of thinking about this particular topic just now. “I was a good boy and told my therapist. Can we call that enough for today?” He cringes, waiting for Loki to argue, but his brother simply leans against him.

“Sure,” Loki ultimately agrees without any fuss whatsoever. “Sex, or dinner?”

Thor lets out a surprised little “hah.” He swings an arm around his brother’s shoulders and pulls Loki even closer, until they’re pressed tightly together from their hips to all the way up to the sides of their faces. “I’m still pretty stressed,” he admits. “Let’s start with dinner, and see where it goes.”

“No problem,” Loki assures him. “To be honest, I’m pretty fucking hungry.”

This time, Thor squeezes his brother so tightly that Loki squeaks. “I love you,” he says.

Loki laughs, a little breathless. “I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki needs something and doesn't know how to ask for it.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Warning - this isn't pretty. It's not horrible, but things have been going well so it may come as a bit of a shock. Sorry?_

For more than a week and a half after he’d _come clean_ , Thor had talked to his therapist every single day. They’d jokingly termed it intensive phone treatment - Thor isn't sure what to think of the fact that he now lives a life where anything like that is somehow funny - but, by the eight-day mark, he’d actually found himself starting to feel quite a bit better. So much so that they’d agreed to cut back to twice a week, which is what they’re still doing presently.

Between all these extra sessions and Ginny and _abuser group_ Thor feels way, way too much as though his brain has been carefully washed and wrung out and dried and then stuffed neatly back inside his skull.

Okay, not really. He can’t help but wonder, though, if that sort of approach might not have been easier.

~

He hasn't seen nearly as much of Sif as usual - he's had to sacrifice their lunches out to make space for all that extra therapy - and he has been cutting quality time with Loki (who is also busy; he's doing a night group for a couple of months, since one of the group leaders is out on maternity leave, and there's been extra work at the shelter since winter has really gotten underway) as well. He can hardly remember the last time he saw Steve.

Thor figures he should make it up to everyone, before anybody's patience wears unacceptably thin.

~

That's what he's thinking about now, a little after quitting time on a Thursday, when Loki is at the shelter and nothing particular is demanding his attention: Dinner or brunch? Out or cooked in? Everyone together, or one at a time; a personal apology to each one of them separately?

He's pretty much narrowed it down – brunch, for everyone, but out somewhere fun so Loki doesn't end up having to work during his own appreciation session - when his phone rings. His cell phone, not his desk line. The incoming call catches him right in the middle of comparing brunch menus and screws up his browser somehow.

Thor is mildly annoyed, right up until he sees the number.

And then he's fucking terrified.

~

"Thor Odinson," he answers. When he's stressed, he always has his court experience to fall back on.

There’s no reason to freak out. Maybe it's nothing.

"Riley," she replies. "Where are you?"

So much for not freaking. "Just packing up at work," he says, semi-truthfully. Actually, it's completely truthful now; he's throwing his shit together as fast as he can. "Was I supposed to be somewhere?" He doesn't remember signing up for-.

"I need you to come over to the day treatment center now," she says, as though he hadn't even spoken, and Thor's stomach lurches.

"Sure," he tells her. His hands are shaking, and so is his voice. "Is everything okay? Is _Loki_ okay?"

"We'll talk when you get here," she says. "Right now I need to make another call."

"Of course," he says automatically. She's hung up on him already anyway.

~

Shit shit shit.

~

Thor locks his computer and stuffs the last few things in his briefcase. He’s flailing; even the little things seem to entail a lot of wasted motion.

And then he bolts, letting his door slam closed behind him.

He tries to call Sif as he hurries out of the building and then sprints for his car. Her phone must be off, or busy; it dumps him straight to voicemail. Thor doesn't bother trying to leave a message. He has no idea what to say, and he doesn't trust his voice anyway.

The expressway is faster. This time of day it doesn’t really matter that it’s a little less convenient. No one catches him running the one stoplight where he opts to take liberties; at least a few things are still working in his favor.

~

Thor pulls the heavy door open. He races into the building and skids to a squeaky, wet-shoed stop on the marble in front of the guard's desk. "Dr. Riley- called," he forces out between labored gasps. "Thor-."

The door to his left opens with a faint click, almost too soft to hear over all the noise he’s making. "Right this way, Mr. Odinson," says a woman he doesn't remember having met before. She steers him into one of the intake offices just inside the doorway. "Dr. Riley will be right with you," she tells him, gesturing to a chair. He nods his thanks. She smiles, pleasantly businesslike. "Can I get you something?"

 _A barf bucket_ , he thinks but doesn’t say. He manages to choke out "all set, thanks," instead.

~

He’s only there alone a few minutes, tops. It’s more than enough.

~

 _Surely if Loki was- oh, fuck._ He can't even say it. If something big-. No.

~

Dr. Riley knocks on the open door as she comes in. Thor jumps - to a ridiculous degree, as though he's an animated cartoon character or something - and whips around to stare at her. She looks worn out, which is anything but reassuring. "What's going on," he rasps.

"Sorry to freak you out," she says, "but I didn't have a lot of time to waste." Thor can feel his stomach oozing out between his toes. "And I didn't want you to wrap your car around a pole heading straight to the hospital. Wait," she commands, one hand out as he makes to leap up. "Calm down, Thor. Seriously. Things are mostly under control. I just need to talk to you for a few minutes."

He makes himself settle back into his chair even though ever sinew is fighting staying put. "Talk," he forces out, and she does.

~

The first bits of it make little sense to him. So little that it all washes in one ear and out the other and doesn’t really stick at all.

"Has Loki been acting odd the past few days," Dr. Riley asks, finally, and _that_ gets through.

A huge wave of guilt crashes straight into Thor. If he’d been standing, he’d be flat on the floor by now. "I- I don't know," he admits. "We've both been super-busy. I've barely seen him."

“Hm,” she says. Thor’s in the process of springing to his own defense when she starts talking again. “Loki’s mentioned that you’ve been going through some crap lately. Has that been causing a problem?”

Thor shakes his head. “I didn’t think so? He’s been pretty helpful.” He stops and glares at her. “ _What’s going on?_ ”

“Why don’t we take one of the vans over to the ED,” she suggests, “and I’ll let him tell you himself.”

~

The curtained-off space smells like the floor of a bar, and vomit, and sweat. The floor is a splattered mess, and the suction canister behind Loki’s head holds about three inches of black sludge. It’s gross. If Thor was squeamish, he’d be gagging. He might anyway, just for good measure.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Loki says, voice raw and scratchy. He has big charcoal smudges on his face and neck. It’s all over his hands, as well, and his rumpled pink gown hasn’t fared much better. Stained wrist and ankle cuffs dangle from the sides of the bed in stark reminder that things must have been even worse early on. “I did something really stupid.”

Thor swallows down (the remains of his lunch, and) a sob. His brother looks small and filthy and pitiful, and all he can think is _I should have paid you more attention recently._ “What do you mean, baby,” he asks quietly.

Dr. Riley reaches out and gives Loki’s ankle a quick squeeze. “Go on, tell him.”

Loki snuffles. When he wipes his nose on the back of his hand, it leaves a black smear. “I feel like an ass,” he tells her. She shrugs. “Okay,” he says. He takes a deep, slow breath through his mouth as he visibly collects himself. “I stopped taking my medication,” he says. _Fuck_. Thor makes himself stay very silent and still, despite how his brain is jumping all over the map. “All of it. A few days ago. A week, maybe a little more. I- I guess I wanted to see how I felt without it.” He coughs. “I know better. I do. Don’t even start.”

Thor just shakes his head. He’s speechless anyway. It’s taking all he has not to bawl.

“So.” Loki goes on. “I snuck out of the center and drank a bunch. I have no idea why. I don’t really even like getting drunk. You know that. And then I _wised up_ , if you want to call it that, and called my coach.”

“And that turned into this how exactly,” Thor asks, mostly to have something to say. He gestures at the mess around them.

Loki wipes his hands on his gown. It doesn’t help. “Every OD is a multi-substance OD until proven otherwise,” he says, looking at Dr. Riley. “So, I got the whole drill. The activated charcoal. The gastric lavage.” He tries to smile – his lips and tongue are grey and there’s black yuck between his teeth. “I really just had too much to drink, but of course no one believed me. Not that I blame them.”

“Oh, baby,” Thor says. “I’m sorry.”

“What, you’re sorry that I’m dumb?”

“You’re not dumb,” Thor tells him. “I’m sorry you were hurting and I didn’t even notice.” He looks over at Dr. Riley. “Can I hold him?”

She nods. “Sure, as long as you don’t mind getting a little messy.”

He doesn’t. At least, it’s not enough to stop him, even though Loki feels slimy-gritty everywhere and smells- worse. “Shh,” he soothes as his brother slumps sticky and damp against his chest. “When can you go home?”

Loki sighs. “Not tonight,” he admits. “And maybe not tomorrow. Not until they make sure my medication is all back where it should be and I’m _not a threat to myself and others._ And I can’t even start taking any of it,” he continues over Thor’s huffy protest, “until all this shit is out of my system. I’m so, so sorry,” he says again.

Thor hugs his brother close. His head is spinning. Maybe he actually should be angry this time, but all he can manage is _sad._ Sad and frightened and exhausted. “It’s okay,” he says, even if it isn’t, or at least shouldn’t be. “We’ll figure it out.” He twists to look at Dr. Riley. “Make sure they know I’m staying.”

Her eyes narrow. He gives her _the look_ and, for a long moment, he thinks she’s going to tell him to get lost. In the end, though, she does nod. “I’ll see what I can do,” she says. “Be good,” she tells his brother.

Loki nods against Thor’s shirt, leaving a long black smear. “I know it may not look it, but I’m trying.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a road back out of the woods after all.

"So how late did you end up staying," Sif asks him the next day when they finally manage to stop playing phone tag and can carve themselves out a few minutes to catch up.

"Loki cut me loose around 4:00 AM, I think it was," he tells her, rubbing his eyes. He's so, so fucking tired. "He said I was snoring loud enough that the patient in the next bed was complaining. Plus we have pets now; we can't both stay out all night without planning in advance." Which is true. He hadn't really slept after he’d gotten home, though; once the cats had finished eating, Mac had wanted to play. That, and his own brain had been far too busy.

"How did he seem when you left," Sif asks. "Loki, I mean. I'm sure Mac was orange and squirrelly."

Thor laughs. "Loki, then, was dirty grey and squirrelly." He feels bad, pretty much immediately, for making overly light of it. "Actually he seemed- sad." He sighs. "We were both guilty and sad, I guess."

She hums an unhappy little sympathetic-sounding noise into the phone. "I'm sorry. It must have sucked for both of you."

"Does suck," he corrects, but that’s kind of wrong too. "Sucks. Present tense."

Sif hums again. "Yeah, I bet it does. How drunk was he?"

He considers that a moment, thinking back to the night before. "Not very. I don't think he’d had more than a few." His brother had seemed pretty much completely sober by the time he and Dr. Riley had gotten there. Thor clears his throat. "It was more that they didn't trust him, probably."

"Mm," she agrees. "Good point. They were probably wondering what he’d used all that booze to wash down."

"He didn't," Thor says, emphatically enough that he kind of shocks himself. "I think he- he was afraid he would, though. So he went and blew himself in.”

"Good thinking," Sif says, and Thor has to agree. "He's a smart one, that brother of yours,” she adds. She’s right, too.

Out of nowhere he feels the pressure of tears crowding the edges of his vision. "I should go," he tells her. He can't cry at his desk, not so early in the day. It’s bad enough that he looks like ass. "Thanks for- for talking. I'll keep you posted."

"Hang in there," she reminds him. He even thinks he means it when he promises her he will.

~

"It's taken a lot of phone calls," Dr. Riley advises when Thor talks to her late in the afternoon, "but I think they will release Loki tomorrow morning. And that's only if you can take Monday off." He hears her rifling through papers. "I'm out Monday," she explains, "and I had to assure them someone would keep an eye on him."

To only spend one more sleepless night alone, he will take the rest of his _life_ off. "Whatever you need," he agrees. "Whatever _he_ needs." He swallows hard – he hates this part, just hates it – and then forces himself to continue. "Am I back on- on suicide watch?"

"You know," she muses, "I don't think so. But you can never be too careful, right? And Thor," she adds before he can agree with her, "why don't you just ask him?"

~

When he stops by the hospital that night his brother - not markedly cleaner, but a little less haggard-looking - is sitting in the geri-chair, smudgy nose buried in a magazine. "Hey baby," Thor says softly. "I missed you."

Loki's eyes are full of nameless emotion for a good two seconds before they shutter. "I'm gross," he says flatly. "You don't want to see me like this."

In the imaginary world inside his head Thor rolls his eyes so hard it’s painful. _Don't try pulling your shit with me_ , he forces himself not to say. He looks his brother up and down, from the stained non-slip footies to the tangled mop of hair. "You _could_ use a good scrubbing," he concedes good-naturedly instead, "but aside from that you're wrong. I want to see you any way I can."

Something softens in Loki's face. Thor squats in front of the chair and reaches out to lay a hand on his brother's bony, angular knee. "How are you feeling?"

Loki huffs. His sharp chin juts out, and he looks down his nose at Thor. "Beyond stupid, you mean? And guilty, and filthy?" His words beg, even as his attitude angles for a fight.

Thor absolutely refuses to let himself even consider taking the bait. They're both tired, they’re both hurting. He wants this to end well in every imaginable way. "Yes," he says softly. "Beyond all of that."

Loki meets his gaze for a long moment and then looks away. "Lucky," he says very quietly. "Lucky you have my back… and lucky you're as stubborn as I am."

~

It’s cold in bed alone, not to mention lonely. Thor isn’t sure how he did it all those years. It’s not a nice break and it’s not peaceful… he just lies there, stomach all in knots, and wishes his brother was here. Here beside him in the dark, warm and pointy and snoring lightly, instead of bunched up in a hospital bed trying to rest in the sickly glow of the overhead fluorescent lights. _Just this one more sleep_ , he reassures himself, like they’re coming up on a big vacation (or off some sort of business trip, ill-advised as that might be). _This time tomorrow and we’ll be curled up together_.

 _Hang in there_ , he reminds himself. _It’s almost over._

~

“Bath,” Thor says firmly as soon as they’re back in the apartment. When Loki tries feebly to make excuses, Thor hoists his brother over one shoulder and marches off down the hall.

Five steps – give or take – later he stops and sets Loki gently down. “I’m sorry,” he says. He’s not supposed to be manhandling people like this, his brother least of all. “You’re dirty. Wouldn’t a bath make you feel better?”

Loki wrinkles his smudged, charcoal-crusted nose. “Mm,” he says. He leans into Thor with all his (far too little) weight. “Have at me.”

 _You haven’t been eating enough again_ , Thor thinks to himself as he gathers his brother close. _Somewhere along the line I forgot you need taking care of_. He sighs, quietly. _I guess we both do… which is going to be tricky_. He slings Loki gently back over his shoulder, waiting patiently as his brother shifts to balance. “Let’s give you a good scrubbing.”

~

By the time Loki is clean, the bathtub is the one that needs a good scrubbing.

It will wait. Even though it’s still early – not even close to lunchtime – they tumble into bed.

For the first time since they’d received Odin’s letter, Thor actually sleeps soundly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki wants a little coddling, for a given value of coddling. Thor gives it to him.

"Shh," Thor pants out, which is a little bit ridiculous considering his brother is snuffling and gagging _voluntarily_ after having pretty much demanded to be _used_ in precisely this manner not even five minutes earlier. Thor stills his hips to reach down and to rake his brother's sweaty hair back, only to receive a none-too-gentle warning bite in return.

"Oww! For that I should just stop and leave you here," he complains, craning his neck to look down at Loki’s flushed, tear-streaked face.

Loki rolls his eyes. He does his best to inch closer to Thor, extending his neck and creeping his knees forward one after the other, little by little.

Thor pulls back, teasing, until the head of his cock is only barely poked between his brother's red, slick lips at all.

Loki growls.

"Fine," Thor says with an amused snort. His laugh morphs straight into a gasp, though, when - as he snaps his hips forward sharply, hard enough to smack Loki's head into his palm and rap his own knuckles painfully against the edge of the counter – bad angle aside his brother somehow still manages to take his cock _all the way down._

No matter how many times they do this (and it may not be that many, because- because Thor always feels like he shouldn’t) he will never, ever get used to it.

He shifts his feet, standing with legs spread as far apart as his pants will allow. Moving even that small amount jostles his brother.

The chains securing Loki's wrists and ankles clank as he struggles to keep his balance.

A shiver prickles up and down Thor’s spine. He reaches out with his free hand to clasp his brother's head more firmly, thumbs along both prominent cheekbones and fingers wrapping around the back of Loki’s skull. He can feel his brother’s throat working around his cock as he pulls back slightly and waits - just far enough and long enough for Loki to suck in a couple of raspy, snotty breathes through partly-clogged nostrils - before losing patience and pushing his way home again.

After a couple of rounds of that, he's too close to be anything anywhere near _careful_. He holds Loki's head still with both hands and fucks into his brother's mouth like a wild thing.

Loki is already starting to struggle by the time Thor comes. By then it’s too late to stop, really; Thor can’t help but make his brother suffer a few seconds longer, until he's pumped every last drop down Loki's spasming throat.

When Thor pulls all the way out and eases his brother gently backwards, Loki sags limp against the counter.

His thin chest rises and falls in huge, desperate, sucking heaves, as though he may never get enough air again. His eyes are closed. His face is a slimy mess of sweat and tears and snot and spit, and he's going to have a bruise on one cheekbone where Thor's thumb must have dug in a little too forcefully.

But despite everything he's grinning like an idiot.

"Good," Thor asks, because (despite how incredible it felt, not to mention his brother’s huge smile) there's quite a bit of guilt lurking. He very, very much wants to ask if Loki is okay. Which he knows his brother doesn’t like, at all. _Good_ , he hopes, is an acceptable compromise.

Loki nods. _Fuck, yeah_ he mouths. All that comes out is a raspy hiss.

Thor bends to grab his own pants and tug them up from around his ankles, pointedly ignoring his wet, slimy groin. His legs are shaking. He grabs a dishtowel off the counter and squats to wipe his brother's face. This time, when he tucks a few loose strands of Loki’s hair behind his brother’s ears, Loki doesn’t protest.

"Do you want me to let you loose," Thor asks as he sits back on his heels and uses his shirt to blot his own sweating face.

Loki coughs. Phlegm rattles in his throat and Thor winces. "I'm fine," he whispers, smiling again. "And, yes, if you don't mind."

Thor doesn't mind at all.

~

After (he helps Loki shift into a more comfortable position and then takes a couple of minutes to return certain favors, after a fashion, hand slicked quickly with olive oil from the bottle by the stove… and) they make themselves a little cleaner, Thor scoops his brother up and carries him into the living room. He wraps Loki in a perennial favorite – the fluffy grey blanket - and deposits his brother gently on the couch.

“Go let the cats out,” Loki reminds him as Thor starts to sit down. “Please.” It’s more a croak than a word.

Thor straightens up with a groan. His back his going to hurt tomorrow. Right on cue Marci yowls.

“Coming,” Thor calls. He had locked her (and Mac) in the bathroom earlier, with a nice selection of their favorite toys, because _a little BDSM in the kitchen with a wet cat nose on his ankle_ had really felt like quite a bit more than he could handle.

The whole thing had felt like quite a bit more than he could handle, when you get right down to it, but they hadn’t _played the game Loki’s way_ in a while. After the week they’d just endured, too, Thor’d been feeling indulgent. His brother had asked nicely enough, and they’d both agreed that neither of them felt much like going out. Not after the past couple of days.

_Staying in doesn’t have to be synonymous with boring, you know_ , Loki had said when Thor had waffled. In the end, he’d opted to oblige.

~

When he unlatches the bathroom door and pushes it open, both cats blink up at him sleepily. Marci yawns, as though she’d been sound asleep for hours. “I know you’re lying, my furry bowling-ball-with-legs,” he tells her. “Don’t even.” Mac yawns too. They both put their heads back down. “Fine,” Thor grumbles. “Suit yourselves. We’ll be in the other room if you get lonely.”

~

“They don’t like us anymore,” he tells his brother when he gets back to the living room.

Loki barks out a laugh. His voice is rough and ragged. “Everyone likes you, sweetie-pie,” he kids. “Don’t be ridiculous. Come sit with me.” He shifts and lets the blanket fall open.

“Mm,” Thor says once they’re both snuggled together under not only the blanket but also one of the faded old quilts as well. He’s warm and cozy and relaxed, if perhaps a bit sticky. “I have to tell you,” he jokes, except it isn’t all that funny. “As options go, this is a much better way to spend an evening.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” Loki whispers.

Thor kisses the top of his brother’s head and tries not to think about how Loki’s ribs are once again far too prominent. _I need to take better care of you_ , he tells the brother he holds safe within his own head. What he says aloud, though, is “I hope we can take better care of one another.”

He’s not sure, really, if that’s a better thing to say… or a worse one.

If nothing else, at least it’s true.


	6. Chapter 6

"You have to eat more, you know," Thor offers from the post he’s taken up by the bedroom door. Sunday morning has dawned clear and bright, sun glinting off the snow everywhere. It’s almost as if the whole world is fresh and new. In the stark white light pouring in from the balcony door Loki's ribs and spine are way too prominent. "When you're working out," Thor hurries to clarify. It's fitness advice, not a personal dig, besides which his brother is gorgeous at any weight. "Too little body fat and you're going to really struggle to build muscle."

He knows this for a fact; for different reasons entirely, as far as Thor can tell, he'd run into the same problem in high school. And again in early college, when trading school food for his mom's great cooking had resulted in anything but the usual freshman fifteen. "Not that you don't look good regardless," he offers, when Loki says nothing, because of course his brother does look good. Loki ignores him, busily rooting through one of the dresser drawers – it’s stuffed full of t-shirts, from the looks of things - as though the deepest secrets of the universe are buried in there somewhere. Thor sighs. "I just want you to be healthy."

Still nothing. Well, except for more digging. "I'm not trying to be an ass," Thor says sadly, only to jump as his brother rasps out _there you are, you little fucker!_

Loki whips around with a dark, dark green shirt clenched in one fist. "Found it!" He half-smiles, looking sheepish. "I'm sorry. You were saying I should eat more. I really was listening. Mostly."

Thor lets out a whistling sigh of relief. "It's okay. You got the gist of it. I thought you were mad."

"Not mad," Loki teases with a wink. His face catches the light; sure enough, a dark bruise stands out along the pale slope of one cheek. "Just crazy." He stretches, arching back until his baggy sweats are maybe half an inch from completely indecent. Thor fights down the urge to push him onto the bed and lick his abs. It isn’t easy. "You're right, though," Loki adds, curling down to inspect his flat-almost-to-the-point-of-concave abdomen. "It's been too much stress and too little food recently.” He looks back up. “I guess I'm not so great at taking care of myself after all." He isn't smiling anymore. Thor still wants to lick him, though. After hugging him tightly, maybe.

"It's not really that.” Thor clears his throat. “Not at all. You've had the cats and the shelter and your big anxious doofus of a brother, _and_ yourself. Too much, you know?" He's sure it is; he's done it in reverse, _without_ the animals tossed into the mix, and it's been well more than enough for him as well. "You've been awesome. You _are_ awesome. Really, baby, you just need to eat more." He wipes his mouth. "And I need to get back to where I’m putting in my fair share of the effort."

Loki nods, once, sharply decisive. And then he smiles again. "Can we go sledding?"

It's a great idea. "Eat first," Thor asks.

"Eat afterwards," Loki corrects, face wry. "Just in case,"

Thor frowns. He motions _go on_ when his brother just stands there expectantly.

"Sorbitol," Loki explains, rubbing his belly. "In the charcoal crap., I mean. Let's just say things aren't quite back to where I'd like them to be." He laughs at the expression on Thor's face. "At least not for outdoor play."

His brother has him conditioned, Thor knows. All it takes is the word _play_ and he can feel his face heating. "Um," he says, trying hard to think about intestinal distress and not about the way his own cock had looked disappearing between Loki lips yesterday evening. He coughs quietly into his hand and his brother snickers. "I can see why that would su- would be miserable," Thor gets out, finally. "Sledding and big brunch afterwards, then."

"Deal," Loki says, voice kind of muffled. His head is inside his shirt. "Can you hand me your dark grey sweater?"

Thor does. "What's wrong with all _your_ sweaters," he complains, mostly kidding. Now that Loki has settled back into civilization, Thor is certain his brother has enough clothes to warm an army.

“Wrong?” Loki pops out of the shirt’s neck hole, grinning. "I don't like to get my sweaters wet. Plus, I like the way yours smell. Mmm." Loki buries his face in the wool and sniffs loudly. "Mmmm,” he hums again, “Just like you."

“Stop,” Thor insists. He can’t stand it anymore; he’s across the room in two long strides, with his tongue in Loki’s mouth and his hands tangled in his brother’s hair.

Eventually Loki pulls free, laughing and panting. “At this rate we’ll never get out of the apartment.”

Just this second Thor is struggling to see how that’s a problem, but he does actually want to go sledding. The two of them need to take a break from everything and do something fun for a change. He groans and pushes his brother to arm’s length. “Sweater,” he says. “Sledding. Brunch. We can fuck later,” he adds when Loki pouts. “I promise.” He hugs his brother close again and presses one last kiss into Loki’s messy hair. “Let’s go. You may not be, but _I’m_ starving.”

~

It’s a beautiful day, for winter. Just beautiful. The walk to the park is cold – if Thor could spend the whole season in the tropics, he would, especially if that meant getting to watch his brother prance around in a Speedo – but they do it hand-in-hand. On top of that it’s worth it just to see Loki _playing_. Thor can’t remember the last time his brother looked so genuinely happy; so _free_.

It’s even worth the snowball that catches him solidly in the back of the head.

And Loki making a snow angel, in his sweater.

~

As promised they go out for brunch afterwards. It’s Sunday – although it doesn’t feel like it, because Thor knows he has (gets!) to stay home and Loki-sit tomorrow – and the restaurant brunch options are just too good to pass up. He and his brother take turns feeding each other crepes and eggs benedict and homemade chicken-apple sausage. And, of course, chocolate chip pancakes.

When Loki smiles at him across the table, nose topped with a little dollop of whipped cream, Thor knows for certain; no matter how much work it takes, everything about this is worth it.


End file.
